The dragon was just one big flying ball of fire. And of course we lived in an all-wood house. Built on the side of a cliff. With a huge overhang. Of course.
Last night's dreamscape was wild, to say the least.
It was up to me to defend the home from the flying menace. And by defend, I mean it was my job to stand behind everyone else and say, "good, good. Now try throwing the water ball higher. Good…"
It was up to me to steer the attack using nothing but my words. Oh, and apparently the dragon couldn't see anyone but me. Oh, just me and all the StuffIt kept setting on fire.
So amid the dragon diving and firebombing the house, with me as the only person who could tell anyone how to deal with it, the bell rang and I had to go to class.
See you guys later – don't let the house burn completely down.
At class it was a whole different story. The teacher called me out for missing so much class (apparently defending the house from dragons is not an excused absence). If I don't get serious and attend at least 3 concerts in the basement at the Doug Fir, then I will only get a B in the class.
Hello? What does all that mean… I don't know if it means I should eat more ice cream or less ice cream before bedtime.
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